literature

NorwayXReader ~Request~ Promises

Deviation Actions

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*Warning!  I mention a character's death in this...so if you don't like, don't read!*


      A half dozen starlings perched themselves on the wire, others stayed on the makeshift scarecrow on the edge of the snow covered garden.  The figure wore the Dane’s retired, tattered red shirt and black jeans, finished with an even older red cape.  Like you, these items had seen better days before you snatched them from the dusty drawers in your bedroom.  The small black hat that sat cockeyed on the fair-haired straw man’s head was becoming wind-tattered.  Like the Danish man you knew, this scarecrow had blond hay sticking up around that hat.  His face was paint with a large smile and bright blue eyes.

If you squinted your eyes and imagined hard enough, you could almost picture him standing there, waiting for you to join him in the garden.    

You shivered at the blustery gale of November’s weather that you could see from outside.  Had it always been so cold this early?  It was still the early hours of the afternoon, but the sun was setting in the molasses coloured sky, sinking behind the tall pines that outlined the forest entrance.   A strong wind blew, pushing hard on the fake man in the garden that was less than scary to you, causing his willowy arms to flail wildly.  

Peering your (e/c) eyes out towards the field you watched something more than the wind startled the birds that took off high in the sky.  Their glossy greenish feathers kept their stocky bodies on the breeze to their next perch.  Shutting the book in hand, you rested it in your lap and waited for the reason.  

A car door slammed hard, and you turned your head to see who had pulled into the drive.  You hadn’t heard a vehicle pull up, but then again your mind had wandered to memories you would have liked to forget. You stood, and without any luck, you tried to smooth the wrinkles away from your shirt.  

Walking towards the front door, you placed the book on the handmade oak table by the door.  Running your fingers over the top of the smooth edge, you found a lopsided smile to give.  It was the only way to feel him once more.  Tugging on the ruby red door knob to the white front door, you found the reason to the disturbance of the birds.  

It was a pleasant sight to your eyes, nonetheless.  

A man kept his eyes downward, not making a sound, but for his black boots crunching the snow underfoot.  A dark blue parka with a fur lined hood kept him warm from the short walk from his car to the front steps.  His gloved hands stuffed into the pockets to shield them from the blistering cold.  

Small, frosty puffs of air formed around him as he found himself having to step higher in the massive piles of snow.  He glanced to his side to see your car buried up to the mirrors from the white fluff that had come days earlier.  Pulling his hood back, he looked at the path behind him to the mailbox that was impassable.  Shaking his head, caused his shaggy blond hair to move with the wind, you could tell that he was making a mental list of things he needed to do before he left you.  

You stepped onto the veranda, your bare feet brushing some of the snow that had collected on the doormat that only read ‘welcome’, but really didn’t say your feelings to visitors now a days.  Shutting the door behind you, the hollow sound echoed into the front yard.  

His dull blue eyes snapped to the sound, his face looking rather indifferent until he locked eyes with you.  His strong features soften, and he nodded a greeting as he picked up the pace to you.  The icy wind caused the blonde’s cheeks to go to an apple red, moving to his bare ears.  

To your eyes it looked as if the man just wanted to get out of the cold and finish what he had volunteer himself to do.  If you happened to have known what he saw in his eyes, would have been the complete opposite.  It was to get to you and only you.  To do the little things around the house that had been neglected was just a reason to stay as long as he could.  

It was a promise to a friend to keep you safe.  If the one couldn’t love and cherish you, then Lukas would.  Even in silence, even if he felt that he could never do a good job of it.  He seemed to cause you more problems and heartache, then a quote ‘shoulder to lean on’.  

“Hello, Lukas,” you said.  Pushing the door open, you sidestepped to let him in first.  

“Get in here, its cold out there, especially since you don’t have shoes on.”  He clicked his tongue, giving a cold look to your bare feet.  Pulling off his gloves, he shoved them into the parka’s pockets.  “(f/n),” the Norwegian’s voice softened as he unzipped his jacket.  Placing it on the coat rack next to the door, he started to unlace his thick boots.    “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.  “I was just reading a book on…” you stopped and picked the book up, looking over the glossy cover that was black but for the images of white orbs and scrolled lettering.  Turning the book over, you reread the back, forgetting that you were telling him the name.  

He looked over the book that you held in your hand.  Your eyes scanning over the small blurb on the back cover.  Reading over the title he found himself sucking in one more deep breath.  It was another book on communicating with the dead or about ghost experience, the title itself was vague, as it just read ‘The Dead’.  You had become interested in this subject shortly after the accident.  

How long ago was the accident now?  It had to be almost eight months ago, right?  Yes, eight long months.  You had shown improvement, going out and about.  It was hard for a newlywed to lose her husband within six month of marriage.    But you were showing promise.

Until, a few strange happening occurred around the house to peek your interest in the paranormal.  

Lukas had tried to tell you so many times to stop with this silliness.  But was it really silly? He was never one to dismiss things like this, but he wanted it so badly to be true.  You claimed that things would move around the house.  You would find pennies scattered here and there, which was another sign.  Knocks and the faint sound of laughter were all heard by you and only you.  

You would wake up and see an image of something at the end of your bed.  Something you claimed would just stare at you, with deep blue eyes.  

You could feel a pressure on your shoulders when sitting on the sofa watching the telly, or something pulling you into a hug.  A breeze or what you alleged was a hand, would brush your (h/c) hair away, and tickle the nape of your neck, sending an icy chine down your spine.

You were lost in your thoughts now and soon Lukas found himself in his own, deep and unrelenting.  

Lukas thought that it was only his grim memories of an impromptu burial – the remains of Mathias Densen, too young to die- also those that kept him awake at night. But it seemed more was painted on your thoughts too.  It was he you sat next to at the funeral, as your (e/c) eyes looked ahead at the polished oak casket.  You leaned your head over, resting on his shoulder as they read the eulogy, your (h/c) hair was soft and silky as it brushed his cheek.  

He always said that he would make his own. Your words were etched into Lukas’s mind and had been from that day.  He would think about those words before he went to sleep at night.  It was surprising to him that Mathias always made jokes like that.  It could have also been that all five had adopted the joke too about making their own caskets.  

He hated that joke now.  He hated it so much that it would leave such a disgusting taste in his mouth that he constantly wanted to spit it out.  But that was life, to make jokes about death.

His face modeled into something of pain and anger.  His brows furrowed as he was lost deep in thought, thoughts he could and would never share with you.  

Love her and cherish her, Lukas!  Keep her safe and make her laugh.  Please make her laugh, she loves to laugh.  Hug her too!  If anything happens to me, I won’t be able to anymore.

There was a drunken promise to watch over you if anything had happened to Mathias.  Granted, Lukas had strong feelings for you, but he never dared acted upon them.  You had chosen Mathias as yours many, many years ago.  Even if he had been the best man at the wedding, there was jealously there.  There was always jealously for the Dane’s luck to catch your heart.  

Mathias knew how Lukas felt about you.  He always knew how he pined for you.  And as much as Mathias thought Lukas his best friend, he loved you more and acted on it before the Norwegian had a chance.  

Then again, with Mathias knowing the love Lukas held for you, he knew there be no better to be around you, if anything was to happen to him.  It might have been a six sense that Mathias had, he told him only days before the accident to pledge his devotion to you if anything bad was to befall him.

At the time, Lukas thought it nothing more than a drunkard’s worries.  Mathias dug his hands into the blonde’s shoulders, shaking him until he agreed to stay with you.  His friend’s bright blue eyes begged him without words to be faithful on his word.  

Promise me, Luke.  Promise me, that you’ll stay with (f/n).  I know you love her as much as I do. Please, promises like this can’t be broken.

That was the other thing that kept Lukas up at night.  

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”  You asked, hopefully.  You knew he wouldn’t say no, but the usual fear that it could always be was there.  “I would really like you to stay.  It’s almost done, so you don’t have to wait.”  Your fingers played with the pages of the book, before you placed it gingerly back on the table.  

He nodded and grabbed his shoes that he had left there a few days earlier.  Taking a deep sigh, he glanced up to your face.  His face was now emotionless, from the previous look he had.  Studying the dark circle under your eyes, he wondered how long they had been there, but your (e/c) orbs had a bit more life in them than before.   Your (h/c) hair was pulled tightly back show off the features of your face.  Maybe it was just because of winter, but you skin seemed dull and transparent.  

“You wanted the cabinet in the bathroom fixed, right, (f/n)?”  

“Yeah,” you motioned towards the upstairs bathroom.  “It keeps opening, I don’t know if the snap is broken or something.”  You walked over the closet that was next to the front door and pulled it open.  Taking a step back, you looked over the jumbled mess of the catchall, reaching onto the top shelf you pulled out the tanned metal toolbox.   “And the pipe under the kitchen sink is leaking too.”

Lukas rested his hand out, and laced his fingers around the thin metal handle.  “Let me go take a look then,” he sighed.  It wasn’t an annoyed sigh, but one of understanding.    “Has the shower door stopped opening on its own when you’re in there?”  

You dryly laughed.  “No,” you walked into the kitchen.  “I think…” you didn’t finish your verbal thought and started to gather the things to finish making dinner.  You muttered something lowly, not really worrying if Lukas could hear you.  

He knew what you wanted to say.  You wanted to say it was Mathias.  That he never left this house that he shared with you.  That he was still as playful and cheeky as he was when he was alive.  Running his hand up the banister, a shock grabbed at his fingers, Lukas drew his hand away.  

Opening the bathroom door, he clicked on the light and the fan whirred to life.  It didn’t look like anything was wrong in the bathroom.  Setting the toolbox on the sink, he pulled on the cabinet door.  It wasn’t loose or stuck, the thing was perfectly fine.  

“Maybe it’s all in her mind,” Lukas said.  “She took it worse than any of us and why wouldn’t she? Maybe it’s because she’s the one who found him?”   Pulling out a screwdriver, he twisted the screws, hoping that would fix the problem.  “But it was his own stupidity.”  He cursed in his mind, he didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, especially Mathias, but there was still resentment there for his fallen friend.  

He had spoken these words before.  All of the Nordics had discussed what had happened.  Also how you held yourself responsible.  You shouldn’t have blamed yourself, ever.  It was rain, a sharp curve, and speed; those were the only factors.  Nothing you did to cause the accident.  Mathias knew about the curve that he took every night to get home, but the one time he wasn’t paying attention caused him his life.  

“Why did you have to do this to her, Mathias?”  Lukas asked, shutting the cabinet door.  He was pleased with the stiffness of the door now, and thought to himself how it might stop opening on its own. “And me, you know that I can never give her want she needs.”  

Mathias should have asked Berwald to do things around the house.  He should have asked Tino to be the shoulder to cry on and make you laugh.  And Emil could have been the one to do the little things he couldn’t.  Not him!  

The toilet seat fell, and the sound ricocheted loudly in the bathroom.  It took a lot to make the Norwegian jumpy, but with his mind wandering on ailing thoughts, he was nervous.    He looked over to the pink covered toilet seat, shaking his head.  

“If you are here, Mathias,” Lukas glanced around the bathroom, “you can knock it off.”  

A strange tapping sound drew his attention to the door he’d just fixed.  Watching, the cabinet door above the sink slowly swung open, he waited with hitched breath.  Nothing happened, until a bottle rolled out and into the sink.  

It must have been leaning up against the door, and caused it to keep opening, fixing it must have must finally made it fallout. he thought as he walked over to the sink and looked at the dark brown bottle of aftershave.  He picked it up only to find the cap loose, and the tart vanilla aftershave covered his hands, and splashing on his shirt.  

“Wonderful,” he sarcastically said.  

Twisting the cap back on tighter, he replaced it on the shelf and closed the door again.  Grabbing the bar of soap out of the dish, he scrubbed his hands, lessening the strong aroma.  His pale lips parted as he went to curse Mathias for leaving it open, but shut his mouth tightly, pursing his lips.  

“Very funny,” he grumbled, grabbing a hand towel off the rack.  Drying his hands, he wondered if it was really (f/n)’s hopeful mind that Mathias was still playing tricks, or if he really was.  

He could just image Mathias with a big goofy grin on his face.  Holding his sides at the fact Lukas’s sleeves were drenched in his aftershave.  It was something that the damn Dane would find funny.  

Shutting the bathroom door, he would just tell you that he had in fact fixed the cabinet door and hope that it simply was the bottle of aftershave that had been pushing the door open.  

Walking back down the stairs, he sniffed the air.  You must have finished up dinner when he was working.  He sat the toolbox on the opposite end of the table.  

Now his present appetite for food quelled the hodgepodge in his head, and he was pleased to see you bringing a meat platter to the table and set it down near where he would sit. You returned to the kitchen for a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes sprinkled with bacon bits, and there were serving dishes of buttered corn and snow peas.  When you’d seated yourself to his right, he bowed his head in a silent prayer.  

He wasn’t one to pray, but he found the needed for something at the moment.  

“What is that smell?”  You asked scoping some mashed potatoes onto your plate.  You mind drifted back to that familiar scent of vanilla and spice.  It was Mathias’s aftershave.  Your senses felt drunk of the comforting aroma, and your eyelids were heavy as you looked over to Lukas that blushed.

“A bottle fell out of the cabinet when I was trying to fix it.”  He said, filling his plate with food.  “The top was open and I didn’t know it.”  

You lift your eyelids from their half closed position and nodded.  “Oh, I see.”  

Afterward you both ate without speaking for the most part.  No need to make you privy to those things that caused him irritation at the moment.  

“I’ll go check out the kitchens’ pipe.”  Lukas said, wiping his mouth with the napkin and dropping it back onto the table.  “Would you like some help bringing the leftovers to the kitchen?”  He didn’t wait for you to respond and started to gather the food and the toolbox.

You nodded, but didn’t speak.  Stacking a few of the dishes in your arms, you made your way into the kitchen.  You started to add the leftovers to the fridge; you waited for him to start handing over the items in his hand to you.  

You shut the door to the fridge and took a seat at the kitchen counter on a stool.  Watching him open the toolbox and pull out a wrench, he drop to his knees and leaned into the dark cupboard under the sink.  Lukas grumbled, smacking his head on the top.  “Damn it!”  

You laughed, smiling as the man rubbed the top of his sore head.  

“Do you need a light?”  You asked, grabbing the flashlight from one of the cluttered drawers.  You leaned down, shining the light on the pipe. “There, that’s better.”  You kneeled next to him, watching the wrench in his hand grasp and turn around the loose pipe.  

He looked over at you as he gave one last strong tug on the pipe.  You smelled nice, fresh like springtime.  Your lips pursed tight as if you were the one fixing the busted pipeline.  He pulled himself out from under the cupboard and held his hand out, letting you place yours into his.  He removed his hand quickly, shutting the cupboard door once again.  

Taking a dishrag off the counter, he dried his hands.  “I think I got it fixed.”  

A bizarre metallic sound caused you both to turn your heads.  You both looked over to the silver knobs on the sink, they tapped and slowly turned.  The faucet started to wildly pour water out, and soon snapped right off, shooting water straight up.  

“Lukas!  Turn the pipe off!” You screeched as the floor was quickly flooded in water.  You stepped back, only to find yourself slipping in the water, and landing soundly on your arse, soaking your pants.  

Slipping in the water, he dropped to his knees, ripping the door open once more.  Turning the valve off, the water stopped.  

“You’re soaked,” you laughed, ringing out your shirt.  

“You’re not much better.”  He sighed, grabbing the dishtowel again, wiping his face.  “Damn, Mathias.”  

“Oh, Mathias.”  You blushed and motioned with your hand for Lukas to follow you.  “Come on, Lukas.”  

“I’m sorry, (f/n).”  Lukas grumbled as you and he walked up the stairs, covering the rug in water droplets.  “I must have tightened the…”

“Lukas,” you held your hand up, “it’s fine.”  You dug through the dresser drawers, looking for something that would fit him until his clothes would be dry.  

“I mean…” his dull blue eyes sulked as he stared at the floor.  “I just don’t seem to be doing a good job.  I made him a promise and I’m failing at it.  Maybe I could get Berwald to help out around here; he’s good at fixing things.  Tino could make you laugh better.  Emil would be better listener than me.”

“Lukas,” you heaved a sigh, shutting the drawer.  You turned and held out a few articles of clothing.  “Do you know what Mathias told me?”  

Lukas shook his head; there could have been a thousand things that he could have said to you.  Mathias did have a hard time focusing sometimes.  

“He told me to watch over you.”  You grinned, but felt the tears draw to the corners of your eyes.  “He said to give you stuff to do around the house and keep you occupied.”  You sat on the end of the bed, not worrying about soaking the bedspread.  “He said it was the only thing that would keep you from dwelling if anything ever happened to him.  He made me promise.”  

You cupped your hands together, and rest them in your lap.  Mathias had said that to you a few days before he’d passed away.  Maybe he knew something was going to happen to him.  You ran your hand over your cheeks that now were tear stained.  

“(f/n),” Lukas dropped the clothes to the floor, grabbing at your hands, and pulled you to your feet.  “Please, don’t cry.”  

“I know,” you sniffled, pulling your hands away.  

“I made a...Ouch!”  Lukas cursed at the something was flung at the side of his head.  He never remember taking this much abuse from the Danish man before his death.  Looking down at the picture that must have been sitting on the dresser, he scooped it up in his hand; he shook his head, trying to shake the pain away.  “Mathias.”  

You took the picture from his hand, and smirked.  It was one of Mathias’s favorite pictures.  The one where Lukas was choking him with his own tie, Mathias always laughed when he looked at it.  You stood in the background of the photo, laughing at the comical scene of Lukas and him.  

“If you don’t want to keep helping out around here, Lukas, I understand.”  You drew in a deep breath, and slump your shoulders.  “You won’t be breaking any promises.”  

“I think,” Lukas took the picture from your hands.  “I’ll always keep the promise.”  He raised his hand up, brushing some of your hair that had fallen forward back behind your ear.  “Promises aren’t meant to be broken.”  
Request for :iconprofessornami:...sorry it took so long! I've just been busy with school, work, and life....damn life! If I didn't have one, I could spend all my time writing - which would make me happy.

I don't know what the hell I just wrote - sorry Mathias! I wanted something sad. Was it Mathias's ghost messing with you and Lukas, or just a coincidence? And did Lukas and you get together in the end? Maybe....maybe not...you'll never know...

Sorry for grammar and spelling
I don't own hetalia!
© 2013 - 2024 GizmoJax
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